Bleeding Out
by xxxRimaxxx
Summary: The rebellion failed, all previous victors and rebels were publicly executed and now exactly twenty seven years later the hunger games are still going, as big, frighting and as brutal as ever. Will your tribute survive? SYOT CLOSED
1. Arena Ideas

**Maximum of three tributes, please read, review and submit and the tribute form is on my profile**

The grand mahogany door's closed with a thud; its sound reverberated through the dark library, president Rain's very own private Library. It was a big room with a low ceiling and a blood red carpet lining the whole room's floor. The walls were pure white without a speck or dirt, which brought color to the dark windowless room. There were hundreds of cases filled with books, old books that time had forgotten, story books for little children, history books, dictionaries and classics which were gathering dust. The thought of so many books going to waste, not being read saddened me greatly but now was not a time for sadness. The ninety second Hunger games were fast approaching and this year I was given the task of creating this year's arena and everything has to be perfect. My life depended on it, as did my families.

Shaking slightly I shuffle down the main isle, across the white sheep skin rug, towards the president's desk hidden at the back of the room. I take in the sight of the many bunches of lilies and the library's only light, a crystal silver chandelier hanging above his desk.

"Frances, have you finished sightseeing?" The president says in an amused voice. I feel my face turning crimson at the idea of being caught gawking at the president and his home.

"I have them, this year's plans and I think you will be impressed" I say looking at the floor, confidence, and the president likes confidence in a person.

"Alright Frances" he says with an amused smirk. "I have high expectations this year after last year's disaster" I swallow, thankfully I am saved from my fate as the phone in his office rings, he ignores it and snatches the plans out my hands, the phone keeps ringing. He opens the binder to my overhead sketch of the arena. The phone is still ringing. "Heavens" he says throwing his hands up in the air the grabbing the phone. "What, you know where I am, what could be possibly any more important than the arena plans..Wait, what?... are you sure?..." he drops the phone. "She's dead... gone".

"Maybe I should go now" I suggest, only two thankful to leave this oppressive room. The atmosphere was tense, suffocating me almost. He simply nods and flops down in his chair, looking lost and unlike his normal aggressive overpowering self. I bow my head and get up to leave, gasping in relief to know I will live another year.

**Alright, there you go. It's short but I wanted to write something. Please submit a tribute, only try to for an interesting angle, well not a Mary sue kind of tribute. I will be accepting tributes through pm only, unless for some reason you can't make an account. You can reserve a tribute but you must submit it in three days or I will no longer keep the space open. **


	2. Watching Us

**Ok so I have some tributes but I don't want to start posting reapings without all spaces filled, so here I have another quick chapter, so here we have another chapter and please submit. Form on my profile. **

Frances, head game maker pov

We were all lined up and forced to pledge our oath of loyalty to the president, as always then escorted to our planning room. It was a simple room, black walls, wooden floor and a big rectangular table in the middle. At the front of the room there was a huge black screen where we were meant to watch all twelve reapings and work out the odds each tribute had after first impressions in front of the capital. This was a huge deal as if we failed or somehow mixed up the odds then it would cause economic chaos. Most of the capitals income was spent on each year's games and generous supplies to each district every so often; therefore most people bet hundreds even millions on the placing of the tributes to gain all the money they will have invested throughout the year or on tributes in the games. If too many people were unhappy with the result and an unexpected tribute won then everyone would lose a lot of money and President Rain was relying on all of us, the game maker's and a few capital dealer's o have everything exactly perfect.

"All right people we're screening live in twenty seconds. We have chocolate soufflés and truffles with Gillybread on the side with honeysuckle champagne if anyone gets hungry. Are we all right? Good" our dealer says clapping his hands pausing for a breath. "Three, two one and we go to District one" The big screen switches on and a notice flashes up.

Each district will have a five minute view so you can get a feel for things, let's play a game, see if you can guess who will be reaped, guess correctly and you could win a golden Muffle pig straight from a district ten ranch, ready then let the games begin.

Horlando, another gamemaker handed out sheets of paper and fountain pens and we all look at him in surprise and he just shrugs.

"I haven't had Muffle pig in a few weeks" He protests and we turn back to the screen. I pick up my piece of paper and pen and focus on the screen. District one is supposed to be the glitziest most successful district but it still looks down market and poor compared to our futuristic heroic capital. I see boys and girls all heading down the big main street towards the reaping. The girls wear brightly coloured dresses, some short and some long. Twelve year olds shuffle along trying to look as if they didn't have a sleepless night and aren't scared, whilst most of the older tributes are whooping with joy charging down the paved road. A couple of huge older boys catch my eyes but all the girls look so similar it's hard to pick.

The screen cuts to district two and apart from all the silver buildings and blue skies the city is colourless, much like the tributes. They are unwavering, celebrating something almost. They are all massive swinging their weight around. I see few who are scared, I see a group of older girls playing what seems like target practice, throwing knives at people, only missing by a couple of inches. I note them down before the screen switches to district three. None of us pay attention as district three is almost always double bloodbath deaths.

"Oh Frances, see anyone so far?" Horlando asks and I shrug.

"I saw a couple of huge boys in district one and in district two a couple of older girls playing with knives but that's about it, what about you?"

He shakes his head and goes off to help himself to the honeysuckle champagne. District four is similar to district one and district five the kids all look so miserable it's not worth watching as they all seem to be such easy pickings for the careers. I don't really pay attention and you can see how unbelievably bored the rest of us are. By the time we are on district nine most of us have left. I stayed to see district ten. It's always fascinated me if how they create so much food how can they always be starving. Sadly it looks like another disappointing year for district ten. Starving kids are hurrying down the dirt road to their town square. You can see their hollowed cheek bones and the fear through their wide eyes, some are even crying. My heart leaps in my chest for those people out in the livestock district. We give them all we can or at least President Rain assures me we do, but I can see it isn't enough. The screen switches to district eleven and like almost the whole room I get up to leave, those poor hopeless faces waiting to meet their doom...

**Short I know but I wanted to raise awareness. PLEASE submit a tribute, I've got so many arena plans and other stuff but I can write until I have enough tributes so yeah, read review as I want to know what people think and send a tribute in.**


	3. District Seven Reaping

**Hello, thanks to everyone who submitted, I am aiming for at least one chapter a week but unfortunately I go back to school on Monday, Boo, and I have my gcse English language exam on Tuesday, bigger boo, so expect and update later on in the week. Anyway here we have district seven. **

**Indigo Gibbons- submitted by Rippo100 **

**Cayvien Hall-Submitted by Unknown323 **

_Smack_

The Tree groans but doesn't fall. One more push is all it needs.

_Thwack_

I slam my axe into the base of the tree with all my might. It wobbles, then comes crashing down by my feet. With a satisfied smile I tie my axe to my thick belt and grab hold of the base of the tree and sigh as I prepare myself for the short hike up a steep hill dragging this rotten tree. This will be the last one today since I cannot be late for the Reaping. The very thought makes me cringe. I slowly step over a pile of logs and continue up the hill wondering how much time I have before the Reaping begins. I am supposed to meet Melody under the willow tree by the square before it starts, so I guess I better get a move on. Grunting, I tug harder and pick up my pace, I had never been the fastest walker around but the sun was already up and the tree was slowing me down. I continue like this for around five minutes and almost cry in relief when I reach the top of the hill.

"Indi, there you are. I thought you were crushed by a tree or something. Hurry up now or you will miss the Reaping," Alder says clapping me on the back. I flinch having never really liked the man in charge of this particular lumber yard. He was very against me working here since I was too young. I think it's just because he hates my father.

"You're Welcome," I say pointedly and he just smiles. "Well I guess I better head down to the square now.

With that I drop the tree and Alder cries out in pain. I smile to myself as I walk away, hearing his cries of tree landed on his sensitive shin, right on target.

The forest is eerily and dark, which was a change I didn't like. Normally it's bustling with wildlife and people working and the trees sway in the wind loud enough for you to hear. I don't like it, so I hurry home to change out of my shapeless brown tunic and black leggings.

When I arrive home in the poor shack I live in along with my father, I see he is pacing up and down across our hardwood floor, his pale face creased with worry.

"Indigo, finally. I thought you might've already headed out to the Reaping. I was about to go. Quicklyyou must go and change," my dad says sternly pointing to the stairs.

"I don't want to go," I say bluntly and I mean it. My dad sighs and awkwardly pats my shoulder.

"I know. No one wants to go, but we all have to do things in life that we don't want to."

I snort, understatement.

"Anyway," my father continues briskly, "you are only sixteen. Your name is in that bowl ten times. Some twelve year-olds have their names in more times than you, ok? Now you must hurry. Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No, I may be late and I don't want to make you late as well. I will see you later then," I say and rush of to my small room at the back of our shack before he answers. On my bed lies my white creased school shirt and a black pencil skirt. I quickly change and hunt around for the only pair of smart shoes I own. Plain black pumps, practical and they match. I catch a glimpse of my reflection as I leave my room and sigh. Sometimes I wish I was as pretty as Melody. I knew I was never a pretty child, but today I thought I looked particularly awful. Shapeless was the word that came to mind as even with a tight shirt and tucked in black skirt I still looked like an ironing board, straight up and down, no soft feminine curves like Melody and my nose was looking particularly big today. Realizing I had no time to change my outfit, not that I had another suitable outfit, I shoves my shoes on. Just as I slam the door, the Reaping bell sounds.

Cayvien Hall

"Give it back, you little..." I frown searching for a word to match up with this scumbag. If Deondre wasn't LeShawna's brother, I would have smashed his face against the mirror hanging in their hallway.

"Loveable child who is one whole year younger than you so hitting me could get you arrested" Deondre says cheekily and I growl.

"Oh I believe stealing is punishable by death so I don't think any of this district's Peacekeepers will mind. So give it back or else," I say threateningly. I haven't had bread in weeks and I finally get some and that little runt just takes it.

"Don't go too hard on him; we have a Reaping to attend in an hour," LeShawna says in a bored voice looking up from the book she was reading. She used to try and stop me from getting into fights, only then she saw how many I got into on a daily basis and just gave up.

"Whatever, it's his problem. Now give me the bread and you won't get hurt," I say menacingly. I can tell he's thinking of backing down.

"What, you think I couldn't beat you in a fight?" Deondre says and LeShawna and I both roll our eyes, stupid kid. Out of nowhere I swing a light punch hitting him in the stomach and he groans. "Oww" but he doesn't let go of my loaf of bread.

"That was light you pathetic wuss," I scoff and he blushes.

"Didn't hurt," he says.

I sigh, I need to meet Carmelita in like ten minutes. "Didn't it? Well I be this will," I say spitefully. I raise my hand to hit him and he squeals, so does LeShawna, too late I think and bring my hand down hard, striking him square in the jaw. I hear a sickening crack and I think I must have broken his jaw or nose. Blood runs down one side of his face and drips of creating a small puddle on the floor. He screams in pain and busts into tears.

"LeShawna, it hurts, it huuuuuuurts" He wails and she crouches down to check his injuries. She turns to face me accusingly.

"You've broken his nose, half an hour before the Reaping. Great skies abovesake Cayvien, this is so typical of you," LeShawna snaps and I flinch.

"He stole my bread, I haven't had any for weeks and that cheeky little git just stole it, you can't just take something," I growl and she snorts.

"Hypocrite," she mumbles and I feel my temper flare.

"Whatever, I'm going to meet Carmelita now. Keep the stupid bread," I mumble and I chuck the bread down at her feet. She offers me a small smile and sighs.

"It's okay. I'll see you later then," she says simply. I feel guilty since she is one of my best friends, but there's nothing I can do. I smooth down my dark brown fluffy afro and slope of towards the door to meet yet another woman. Hopefully I won't disappoint her too.

Indigo Gibbons 

"Indigo Gibbons," says our escort, Petunia Hill, reading from the slip of paper.

I can't breathe. I feel Melody squeeze my hand tightly. The crowd begins to part giving me a clean path to the stage where my certain death awaits me. I hear Melody snivel and begin to cry and that's when it sets in. I am going into the Hunger Games and I will not return. I feel so numb with terror and I want to cry, but I won't. I never cry until I am alone. I stumble, rather ungracefully, up the steps and join Petunia up on the stage.

"Well wasn't that..." she wrinkles her nose searching for the word "invigorating. Don't worry sweat pea, when you arrive in the Capitol you will be handed over to your stylist and she can fix you up. I know how hard it is, you know looking different."

I flush angrily as she puts the emphasis on the word 'different'. Yes I knew I was ugly, but she really didn't have to point it out in front of the whole district.

"Well," I mumbled forgetting my feelings of instant terror, "I would rather look different than look like one of you" I hear a coup0le of people gash in shock as if they cannot believ I just had the nerev to say that and it brings a small smile to my face. Then I realize I am on TV for the whole of Panem to see and my smile instantly fades. I have a cold realization and I feel washed out. I am going to die in the Hunger Games, I was reaped against all odds. While these thoughts are endlessly echoing through my head Petunia reaches forward to the boys bowl to pluck another name to send to his certain death. I hope it isn't a younger boy.

"Cayvien Hall."

Who? I don't know him so that's ok I guess since it would be easier to kill him then. Only then do I catch sight of the huge boy storming up to the stage and I swallow. He is absolutely massive at around six foot and he's built like a brick wall. He looks like a career so I guess he is a lumberjack. His dark brown afro bounces as he angrily strides to the stage, his brown eyes burning with anger. When he reaches the stage I see that he is actually quite attractive with his wide lips and rounded face, he would look really nice if he smiled, wait what I am saying. He doesn't smile; he just scowls until we are asked to shake hands. I politely hold out my hand and he roughly grabs it and glares at me, with that the camera cuts and we are taken to the Justice Building and into the Capitol's custody.

Cayvien Hall

"Cayvien Hall."

Immediately I feel angry. Stupid Capitol. It's their fault I was reaped. I only had two years to go. Fuming, I stomp up to the stage, my afro bouncing as I walk. Deep down I am scared as I am about to be taken into the Capitol's custody and forced into the Hunger Games. I reach to top of the stairs and the first thing I focus on is the girl who was reaped. I can't remember her name, but her eyebrows are huge. I stare at them as the escort starts rambling on about something and I don't look away until we are asked to shake hands. The girl timidly sticks her hand out and I grab it glaring at her and I almost smile when I see her swallow, I scare her. Her thin cracked lips wobble and I think she may cry then she bites down hard and swallows again. Her stormy grey eyes flash and then she looks down.

"Wonderful stuff, wonderful stuff yes. Let's hear it for our tributes this year, Cayvien Hall and umm what's her name," she fumbles and the girl scowls making herself look even uglier. "Ah Indigo Gibbons, that's the one," the escort finishes her pink butterfly wig wobbles and slips over one eye and she immediately pulls it back.

A couple of people clap and cheer but mostly is a sombre silence, you can see everyone is glad they haven't been reaped but feel sorry for us. I hate pity, it makes me feel ugly and weak so I keep my harsh glare and clench my fists.

"Happy Hunger Games," Petunia claps and a group of burly Peacekeepers surround Indigo and me. We are both taken inside the Justice Building where we will say our goodbyes. I wonder If LeShawna will visit me.

**There you go, Many thanks to my Beta Lady Raksha. I am not going to ask for reviews a it does annoy when other writers do but I am going to be biased to the people who do review or favorite and follow when it comes to the arena, let me know what you thought of the tributes and I will update again soon although not before Tuesday**


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